The First to Know

by Abigail Johnson

  “That night you met Brandon—”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

  “I know. I was going to say you sang really beautifully.”

  “Really?” She shifted on her shoulder to face me.

  I nodded. “It makes me hate you a little less for giving up softball.”

  “There are city leagues I can join in Nashville. I’ll still get to play a little.”

  “I hate that you’re moving so far away. What am I supposed to do once you’re gone?” My voice cracked.

  She tucked her head against my shoulder. “There’s still the chance I’ll be really crummy and everyone in Nashville will hate me.”

  I smothered a laugh. “You forget I’ve already heard you. You’ll be amazing, Sel.”

  “You’ll visit, and I’ll come home all the time. It’ll be like I’m not even gone.”

  But she would be. So much was changing. I already missed her and she hadn’t even left yet. Tomorrow she’d be back at Whitney’s, but this night was still ours.

  “I just realized what you would have done,” I said.

  “What?”

  “If you’d been the first to know about Brandon instead of me. You know that scene in A Christmas Story where Ralphie blames his friend for teaching him the word fudge, and then Ralph’s mom is on the phone with his friend’s mom, and you hear this screaming through the handset, ‘What? What! What!’” I tried to whisper the shrill screaming. We both suppressed a grin. “We’d have all heard you screaming and we’d have had to have the whole thing out, right then. That’s what you’d have done.”

  “Probably,” Selena admitted, and I could hear the smile she still wore. “So you forgive me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And Dad?”

  My lingering smile faded. “I don’t know. Do you?”

  “I want to. I don’t want to feel this way about him, you know?”

  I shoved her. Not hard enough to push her off the bed or anything, but enough so she’d feel it. “I know. How do you think I’ve been feeling all this time?”

  “Ow! Well, I hate it.”

  “Me too.”

  “And I can’t even begin to think about him.”

  Brandon.

  “Except...” she went on “...I hope he changes his mind. I still want Dad to get to meet his son. Is that wrong?”

  I could feel Selena’s eyes on me, waiting for my answer. I knew how she felt, that undeniable longing for Dad and Brandon to see each other, even if it was only one time.

  Chapter 47

  Dad’s back was to me when I entered the kitchen early the next morning. It was the first time since finding Brandon that I’d willingly sought out my dad. Silently, I pulled the box of Bisquick from the pantry and a mixing bowl from the cabinet next to the sink, then grabbed eggs and milk from the fridge. I sat down at the kitchen island and started mixing the pancake batter while Dad lit two burners on the stove and dropped a pat of butter on the griddle he pulled out. A minute later I was ladling batter, silver dollar–size for me and Selena and larger ones for Dad. Mom only drank coffee in the mornings.

  As I watched for the little bubbles to appear and tell me it was time to flip, I remembered a much younger me, still in footie pajamas, lifted in Dad’s arms as he showed me the exact right time to flip pancakes. He’d always been my coach, on the field or in the kitchen and everywhere else.

  “State is in less than a week,” I said, turning the first pancake while Dad began frying up bacon beside me.

  “Yep.”

  “I think we have a real shot. Sadie’s pitching is almost better than Selena’s at this point.”

  “She’s been working hard,” Dad said. “Hard work always pays off.”

  Maybe that was a dig and maybe it wasn’t. But it felt like one, since I obviously hadn’t been working as hard as I could have been these past weeks. I paused in the act of flipping the last pancake. “I have worked hard at this for years even though we both know I’ll never be as good as Selena, but you know what? She never cared half as much. Maybe your son would have been the perfect blend of talent and determination, but with me and Selena, we only each got one.” I whirled away from the stove, taking my plate of pancakes to the island with me. In the silence that followed, all I heard was the sizzling bacon and the occasional pop from the coffeepot. Dad stayed quiet until a pile of bacon joined the pancakes in front of me and he sat on the stool beside me.

  “When I was eleven, I lived with the Scudder family. Mom, dad, two kids a little younger then me. They were nice people, not overly affectionate, but they never hurt me.”

  My ears perked up. Dad almost never talked about his childhood. A lot of it was bad, but I knew there had been some good things too. He was somber enough in that moment that this story could go either way.

  “Joe, the dad, worked a lot,” Dad went on. “And he wasn’t up for much when he’d get home at night, but he liked baseball. His sons didn’t, but I didn’t know much about it. We watched games together, and one night he brought me home a glove.”

  “The one you gave Selena?”

  Dad nodded. “Joe was the first one to teach me how to catch a ball. Said I had a good arm and that if I practiced, I could have a great arm.” He smiled. “After that, the only time that glove ever left my hand was in the shower.”

  He’d given it to Selena for her twelfth birthday. I remembered, because she’d told me later that she’d wanted a new one but refused to let me have it when I’d asked. I’d been able to tell it meant something to Dad when he gave it to her. He hadn’t told us how or when he’d gotten the glove, just that it used to be his and now it was hers.

  “You never told us about him.”

  “I was only there for about eight months.”

  “What happened?”

  “They got pregnant, needed the room I was using.”

  “Oh.” That struck me as unbelievably sad, Dad being shuffled off to another family just as he was connecting. He’d been in a lot of foster homes. I think I remember him saying he lived with more than a dozen families before aging out of the system at eighteen.

  “Did the next family have a dad who liked baseball?”

  “No.” A simple one-word answer that spoke volumes. “But I kept playing when I could, high school, college. It was the only thing I was ever good at. And I wanted to have that great arm. I had good coaches, and they pushed me, but I always pushed harder, right up until I blew out my shoulder.”

  After talking together the night before, I knew more about that time in his life than I ever wanted to. I nudged my fork at a pancake.

  “I’ve always pushed you hard, both of you. Maybe too hard.”

  Thinking about all the nights I’d gone to sleep half crying over burning shoulders or bruised shins, I couldn’t argue with that statement. Still, I said, “You wanted us to be good.”

  “I did,” Dad said. “But I wanted you to want to be good. It wasn’t enough to play well—I wanted you to need it. But you don’t, either of you—not the way I did.”

  I frowned, looking up at him. “I don’t understand.”

  “What you tried to do for me, find me family? Dana, it wouldn’t have mattered. I don’t need people now. I needed them then. If I’d stayed with the Scudders or stayed anywhere, maybe it would have been different.” He drew himself up. “But I didn’t. The nicest man I ever lived with happened to like baseball and played catch with me a few times. If he’d liked golf, I’d have a house full of clubs right now instead of bats. I doubt he remembers my name, whereas I’ve spent every game I’ve ever played looking for his face in the stands.”

  “Dad.” His eyes grew shiny, which made my chin quiver.

  “I’ve made so many mistakes in my life, and I’ve passed them on to you. You
don’t have to kill yourself in the backyard at night running drills. You don’t have to be the greatest softball player or win a state championship. You don’t have to compete with Selena or anyone else. And I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you so much. I’m sorry that I ever made you think you had to compete with anything or anyone for what you’ll always have from me. I see you without any of that. I love you, kid.”

  The rest of my expression crumbled, and Dad caught me in a hug that didn’t erase the hurt from past months and years but came close.

  Chapter 48

  I knew exactly where to park, having done it a dozen times or more the previous week. I wasn’t going for stealth anymore, though. I needed Chase to see me, and I prayed he’d be willing to hear me out before shutting me down again.

  I drove over the morning after Dad and I had breakfast together, before anyone else was awake. Hopefully, I’d be back before they even knew I’d left. Chase usually opened Jungle Juice during the week, so I knew roughly when he’d need to leave his house, and I made sure to be out front when he did.

  It was still dim outside. Day was just beginning to press back the night, a soft hazy purple against the blue-black sky. Mornings were already warm by the end of May, even before the sun fully rose. As I waited, night weakened further. The sky was glowing pale pink and orange when Chase opened his door and stepped outside. He took a few steps before he saw me. As before, he didn’t scowl, but even from across the street I could see the slight shake of his head before he crossed to me.

  “This isn’t cool, okay?”

  “I know. And I’m sorry.”

  He squinted at the ground before slowly angling his head up at me. “What are you doing here, Dana?”

  I couldn’t help it. Standing that close to him, I remembered the feel of his lips on mine and the warmth of his hands. I remembered being held in his arms, his breath ghosting against my ear. It physically hurt to think I’d never feel any of that again. He was standing there, not walking away or berating me, but he was as gone for me as if he were. And after what I’d done to him and his family, I couldn’t begin to give him a reason to come back.

  “I’m not here because of us. I wish I were. I wish that there was something I could say to you to make up for my actions, but I know there isn’t. And I get it. If the situation were reversed, I wouldn’t want to be within a hundred feet of you. So, I promise this is it. I won’t show up at your house or anywhere else again.”

  He hesitated, then nodded.

  “It’s about Brandon.”

  Chase’s mouth thinned but he didn’t say anything.

  I swallowed. I wasn’t looking forward to telling yet another person this story. “You know he’s my half brother. His mom and my dad... Well, apparently, no one ever knew until I submitted a sample of my dad’s DNA and it matched with Brandon’s.”

  “I know. He and I talked about everything.”

  I tried not to flinch as my eyes fell shut. Brandon knew what I’d done, all of it. “I told my parents too. So they all know. My mom, I guess, knew about the affair from back then.” My chin quivered and before I could stop myself, my eyes were swimming with tears. “But no one knew about Brandon. I don’t know if that matters to him or not, but my dad wouldn’t have abandoned his son, no matter what the circumstances. My dad is kind of a mess right now.” I tried to laugh but it didn’t come out right. “We’re all a mess. I thought it’d be better once everyone knew, but it’s almost worse. I’m still figuring things out with my dad, but I see him in agony over this person he’s never met and might not ever get to see.”

  “Dana.” There was a hint of warning in Chase’s voice.

  “I know. And I’m not going to force Brandon to see him or anything,” I added, needing to be clear because my track record in that department sucked. “I’m glad you guys talked. I didn’t want him to feel alone in this, and with you, he doesn’t have to.” My chin was all over the place. I couldn’t stop it. “I’m done pushing this on anyone. My parents and sister all understand that Brandon doesn’t want to hurt his family by starting any kind of relationship with us, and we’ve all agreed to respect that and keep our distance.” I had to look away when I said, “And you too.” There was no protest from Chase. I hadn’t expected one, but I’d wanted it all the same.

  “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

  No, I hadn’t. Probably because I had even less hope of a favorable response to my request than I had of Chase forgiving me. But I still had to ask.

  “You don’t owe me anything,” I said. “Or rather, you don’t owe me anything good. And I’m going to ask you something huge. You can say no, you can tell me to get off your street and never come back again.” My voice broke and I had to blow out a steadying breath before I could speak again. “But I can’t leave without trying. And this time it’s not for me.

  “I still love my dad.” And no steadying breath was going to help me that time. Tears spilled onto my cheeks. “He’ll never be for Brandon what he’s been to me. And from everything you’ve told me about Brandon’s dad, he’s already got everything he needs—but maybe it could provide closure for both of them if they met. Not as father and son, but just to see each other and to know. To not carry around a giant question mark for the rest of their lives. I thought if anyone could persuade him, it’d be you. That’s why I’m here. Just to ask you to ask him.”

  Chase still hadn’t left. That was a good sign. But he didn’t look convinced either.

  “You don’t have to decide right now. Wednesday is my last softball game. It’s the state championship. My family will be there, along with a lot of other people. If you both come, it wouldn’t have to be a big production. They could see each other, and if that’s all he wants to do, then you guys could just walk away. My dad could see and know that Brandon is okay, safe. And Brandon could see a man who would have loved him as much as he loves me, which is a lot. I think he should get that, they both should. All I’m asking is that you make this one appeal to him.” I held out a paper with the information for the game, and wonder of wonders, Chase took it.

  “I can’t promise he’ll agree or that I’ll even ask him.” Chase looked at the paper. “Either way...Dana, this has to be it. I’m not going to yell at you or try to make you feel bad, but what you did...not just to me...that’s it for me. I don’t want you coming around.” The paper disappeared into his pocket. “I need you not to.”

  I felt each of his words tighten like a noose around my heart, and tears for him joined the ones for my dad. I nodded the whole time. I had used him—I hadn’t meant to, but the outcome was the same. Everything I knew about Brandon had come through Chase. I’d lied and hurt them both, which meant I’d lost the chance to tell him that learning about my brother had been a side effect of falling for him. And I had, utterly and completely. That was the only part of all this I wouldn’t take back.

  He started to turn but stopped. “He’s leaving for college in less than a month, Penn State. He was planning on staying here the whole summer, but he decided to go early. My uncle already put their house up for sale.”

  “Does that mean...he told his dad?”

  Chase shook his head. “No, he’s pretty adamant that he’ll never do that.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, a blanket apology that was quickly chased by one much more specific. “Oh, your mom. Chase, I’m really sorry. Is she—” I didn’t know how to finish that question. How was it possible to feel any worse? I’d caused so much damage already, and the effects were still rippling. I hadn’t been content with my own family’s ruin—I’d had to take Chase’s along with us. I didn’t know what was hidden in Chase’s garage, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if it was packed full again, with Chase stored along with it.

  Chase’s eyebrows flickered together before smoothing again. In my chest my heart gave one last strangled lurch. No
t because I hoped he’d forgive me that time, but because I knew he couldn’t.

  “Take care of yourself, Dana.”

  Chapter 49

  The day of my state finals, the game my softball team had worked so hard to get to, came without any of the emotional fanfare I’d been expecting. I wanted to win—I always wanted to win—but it wasn’t with the same all-consuming, single-minded determination that I’d thought I would have. It wasn’t the chief focus of my mind. I was thinking about my family, old and new, and the possibility of the meeting that might occur. That was the question spinning dizzyingly in my head: not would we win or lose, but would Brandon show or not?

  Every at bat, every out, every inning, that’s what I thought about. Every time I didn’t need to focus on the game, my gaze was on the stands scanning for something that had become much more important. Distracted as I was, I knew the only reason I played as well as I did was because, in the back of my mind, I kept thinking my brother might be watching me for the one and only time in my life.

  But it wasn’t enough. We lost. Not by a lot, but that didn’t matter. Our team played well, but the other team played better. It was that simple. No one pointed fingers or cast sideways looks at anyone. There wasn’t anyone to blame. I might have played better under different circumstances, but not by much. Selena’s team had handily trounced the opposing team for their final, but my team couldn’t. I couldn’t. For once, I didn’t let that bitter truth devour me. I was good but Selena was great. She was the one who’d gotten the scholarship offers, whereas I already knew not to expect the same interest when I graduated next year.

  Tom Hanks was a liar—there was a lot of crying in softball when your team lost a state championship, especially from the seniors. Ainsley was practically inconsolable. Her mom had to physically walk her off the field. Between all the tears, there were hugs and empty words that no one heard. It was pretty damn miserable in that dugout, and there wasn’t a thing any of us could do about it.